Enigma
by kualify
Summary: AU. Several months have passed since he put on the cowl, and Batman has destroyed organized crime in Gotham. Without the Falcone and Maroni families, a spot has opened up at the top of Gotham's food chain, and new criminals like Penguin and Black Mask are desperate to fill it. Little do they know, a man who calls himself The Riddler is watching and waiting for his moment to strike.
1. Prologue

Prologue : The Birth an Enigma

Edward Nigma was born, rather unremarkably, in the south end of Gotham City. His parents showed their love for him through abuse and neglect, and Edward's parents apparently loved him very much. As a boy, his academic performance was exemplary, although Edward's tendency towards anti-social behavior left him alone, although he did not mind. Riddles, puzzles and other conundrums were all Edward needed in terms of company. They offered Edward a challenge, one he could conquer and gain a feeling of confidence and control. According to Edward, all other humans were below him, and his schoolwork would always back this claim. However, school was not a priority for Edward's parents. Rather, they were more concerned with how they would pay for another bottle of their sorrow or a few hours of numbness with help from a needle and a silent conscience. Edward's father, when he was not seeing to his own inner demons, handled disciplining young Edward. He always tried to be on his best behavior, but it was never deemed "good enough". If you had asked Edward's father, he would tell you that they occasional "love tap" was the cornerstone to behavior enhancement. If you asked the same question to young Edward, he would not be able to respond, on account of his fractured jaw and missing teeth.

Edward's father hated few things more than lies. Edward constantly would swear to his word, but years of paranoia would cloud his father's judgment. Edward's legs were often left broken, and would never properly heal, leaving Edward with a permanent limp on his right side. In the four years until he held his high school diploma, the limp would be subject of ridicule and petty violence towards Edward at the hands of his classmates.

Edward, despite the abuse from his father and peers, managed to not only graduate from South Gotham High School, but also received a full academic scholarship to Gotham University. In some sort of twisted version of reality, perhaps it was fortunate that Edward suffered through the first part of his life. If he had not, then Edward never would have made that promise to himself on first day of university; that the world would one day know the name Edward Nigma. Edward studied criminology; he hoped to be a forensic scientist. He could not think of a better profession that would challenge him to be his best on a daily basis. After achieving his bachelor degree, Edward returned to school hoping for his doctorate in forensic science. The first to years of his studies went as normal; Edward would be at the top of his class and everyone else was left struggling to keep up.

Few years into the future, Edward would look back to his third year and see when an emotionally unstable boy became one of the most notorious in the history of Gotham. At the time, one Professor Strange, one of the most decorated forensic scientists in the world, taught Edward's forensics course. When he graded Edward's final paper, he was not thinking about how his life would be taken from him, long before it was due to expire. As Edward stared at the B+ on his paper, the repressed anger inside of him boiled out of his self-imposed container. After several days of a steady rage, Edward decided to let Professor Strange explain his reasoning behind the grade. Edward marched over to Professor Strange's office.

"What is the meaning of this," Edward shouted, just after he barged into the cramped office. He should Professor Strange the paper in question. "How could you give me this grade? I wrote the best paper in my class and you know it."

"Indeed it was Edward," Strange replied, "and the best paper in the class deserved a B plus."

The snow globe on Professor Strange's desk was in Edward's hands before he had complete control of himself. He felt as if he was a third person, watching, as the glass of the globe shattered over the Professor's head. Edward felt as if he was in a dream as he pulled one of larger pieces of glass from Strange's head wound, and repeatedly jabbed into the Professor's torso. Blood poured from Professor Strange's body like a leaking faucet. Edward became aware of himself as he stood over the fresh kill. He willed himself to move, but could not. Edward's head filled with the teachings of honesty form his father; he had to confess. How could do that Edward without going to jail? He smiled as the most elegant solution came to him. He took a piece of the Professor's personal stationary and a pen. He remembered his favorite from his childhood, and quickly but elegantly scribbled it onto the paper.

 _What do we see once in a year, twice in a week, but never in a day?_

Edward quietly chuckled as he sauntered out of his teacher's office. He thought about the promise he made to himself years ago. Indeed, the world will one day know the name Edward Nigma.


	2. Chapter 1: A New Threat

Chapter 1: A New Threat

With the light of Gotham City shrinking in the distance, and the moon hanging in the sky, the trees along the outskirts of the city casted eerie shadows on the Batmobile as it drove along a scenic path on the outskirts of the city. Inside the car, Gotham's caped crusader flipped a switch, causing the road below to shift, revealing a secret entrance to the Batcave. The car drove through the manmade underground passage until reaching a small platform. Suddenly, a spotlight came to life; its light illuminated the car. Several other lights flickered on, making the pitch-dark cave turn to a less depressing shade of darkness.

The Batmobile's door swung open, and Gotham's stoic crusader stepped out.

Batman walked right up to the computer, which dominated a cave wall.

"I take it that it was slow night," Alfred Pennyworth, the Wayne family butler, said with fatigue evident in his voice. It has been six months, but Alfred knew he would never get used to staying to such late hours.

The Batman didn't waste a second to respond. "Another one of Cobblepot's loan sharks was found dead," he replied, "that makes four in the last week."

Batman's deep and gruff voice would have made anyone else nervous. However, it did not faze the butler. "Perhaps you should allow the police to do their job. I have prepared a roast, sir. I've been keeping it warm. You need to eat, Master Bruce."

"Save it, Alfred. I only came to check the file on the dead loan shark."

Batman punched a few more keys and then the file on the latest victim came on to the screen.

"I don't get it," Batman continued, "At each crime scene there were riddles. The answers to which don't make sense."

Alfred took the hero's brief silence as a queue to respond. "Perhaps Sionis has finally made his move."

"I don't think so, Alfred. Black Mask is involved, but there is something else at play here. I'm going to go talk to my contact in the GCPD."

"Very well, sir," Alfred said, "Do give Detective Gordon my best."

?

Jim Gordon was pissed off, to put it mildly. Four bodies, no witnesses, with fucking riddles left at each scene. Jim a long drag of his cigarette, in an attempt to alleviate his stress, and sunk deeper into his office chair. It didn't work. All of the victims were scum, but for Jim, justice is justice. He didn't move when he heard the voice behind him.

"What do you know about the murders," the deep, intimidating voice behind him asked. If there was one thing Jim hated more than murderers, it was vigilantes.

"About the same as you do," Jim replied. He swiveled his chair, turning to face the current bane of his existence. Batman did not look convinced.

"Don't lie to me Gordon," he growled, "I do not like to be lied to. You should know that by now."

Jim stood up from his chair. Bruce Wayne's tired blue eyes narrowed. "Why should I help you," Jim huffed, "You are an outlaw. The same as Penguin, Falcone, Maroni. All of them. Hell, even this asshole that's leaving fucking riddles next to dead bodies."

"Don't push me, Gordon. You know I am the only one that can stop this. So cough up anything you're holding back from me."

Jim Gordon's mustache twitched. He appeared to be contemplating. Batman knew better. "Fine," Jim said after a few moments. He looked back down to his desk and grabbed a piece of paper off of it.

"This was sent to the department about an hour ago."

Jim handed the paper to Batman whose eyes only glanced at it briefly. The note read:

 _I am lighter than what I'm made of, and what I'm made of hides most of me. This one is really slick. What am I?_

Batman glanced back up at Jim, before putting the note in a compartment in his belt. "The answer is an iceberg."

"You don't think I already know that Batman? I'm not an idiot."

"You know where he wants you to go."

"Of course I do. We have police in route to the Iceberg Lounge as we speak."

Jim turned back down to his desk, taking a bottle of cheap scotch and filling his glass. "I don't know what you expect to fi-" Jim stopped mid-sentence he looked up and only saw the darkness of his office.

"I really hate it when he does that."

?

Police cars, SWAT teams, Vicki Vale, Jack Ryder, and the rest of the media surrounded The Iceberg Lounge by the time Batman got there. From what he could gather, Black Mask's thugs were inside, killing all of Cobblepot's henchmen. Batman grappled to an open window near the nightclub's roof, and peered inside. Black Mask's men were killing everyone in the club, it did not appear to matter if you worked for Penguin or you were simply a club-goer. Penguin's men were trying to hold their own, but where as Penguin's thugs had pistols and shotguns, Black Mask's thugs had machine guns and rocket launchers. Batman had seen enough. He took some smoke pellets out from his belt, and tossed them down into the club. As soon as each one hit the ground, it released a steady burst of smoke, engulfing the entire floor and disorienting everyone in the club. Batman took a leap from his perch, his cape flying behind him. He landed softly on the floor.

Batman turned to the closest of Black Mask's thugs. The goon was blinded, his eyes watering, and firing his gun randomly. Batman grabbed his gun, and easily dismantled it. He then punched the side of thug's face, and the goon fell unconscious.

By now, the smoke was clearing. Shouting was heard on both sides; choruses of men wanting kill Batman, or how they did not want to die, sounded all around him. Batman didn't waste time. He snapped the leg of the next thug unfortunate enough the cross him. Most of Penguin's thugs ran away, out of the Iceberg Lounge, only to be arrested by Gotham's finest. Plenty of Black Mask's thugs stuck around for the pain they did not know they were about to endure.

?

When the last Black Masks thugs were writhing in pain on the ground, desperately gasping for air with shattered ribs and broken bones, Batman went to the VIP room in search for the Penguin. The doors to the room appeared to be blasted open. Batman did a quick sweep of the room, finding nothing save for a few bloodstains next to an old VHS tape placed neatly in the center of the room. Batman tuned his cowl to scan and identify the blood. It belonged to Oswald Cobblepot. There was no body, so Batman had to assume he was still alive, but the clock was ticking. The only lead he had to go one was this tape. He raised Alfred on his communicator.

"Alfred," Batman said, "I'm at the Iceberg Lounge. There appears to have been some sort of gang war between Sionis and Cobblepot. Cobblepot is missing."

"Perhaps Black Mask has made his move," Alfred replied.

"I don't think so Alfred. Black Mask is involved, but there is something else at play here. The riddles are not part of Roman's MO. It's all connected Alfred, and that connection begins with Cobblepot. I need to find him."

"I'm sure you will, sir."

"Of course I will," Batman coolly replied. He grappled up to an open window on the roof, and raised Alfred again.

"Alfred, do we have a VHS player," Batman inquired.

"I do believe there is one in the attic, sir."

"Have it out when I get back to the Cave."

"I take it your coming back for the night sir," Alfred inquired.

Just then, the police scanner built in to the cowl came to life, with the voice of a young woman coming through clearly over Batman's earpiece.

"We've got a 10-31 at Boyle Cryogenics. Suspect is armed with, um, a freeze ray? Stand by for further."

"Does that answer your question," Batman said.

"Of course sir. I'll still be keeping your dinner warm for you. You could have it for breakfast."

"Thanks, Alfred."

?

When Bruce Wayne got home from a lengthy Wayne Enterprises board meeting a few days later, the sun was almost below the trees surrounding Wayne Manor. Alfred immediately greeted the young billionaire.

"How was that board meeting, Master Bruce? The company is doing well, I assume."

"Not so much, Alfred. The villain that raided Boyle Cryogenics a few days ago hit us as well. He calls himself Mister Freeze. He stole a good amount of preservation equipment."

"Preservation equipment, sir?"

"Yeah, the kind that can be used to put a person in cryogenic suspension." Alfred followed Bruce into the Batcave.

"Well I'm sure Batman will stop him soon enough," the butler said.

"I'm sure he will," Bruce replied, "Did you have a chance to look at that VHS tape?"

"I did, sir. It only shows a series of repeating numbers."

The billionaire thought for a moment before replying. "See if the numbers correspond with letters in the alphabet. Get back to me as soon as you can."

"Of course. I take it you'll be going out tonight?"

"Something bigger than Black Mask and Penguin is happening in Gotham, Alfred. I'm going to meet my criminal informant. If anyone knows what's going on, it's her."

"Very well sir. But do try and keep your relationship with Miss Kyle strictly professional. I can't say I care for her too much."

?

Gotham Jewelers had one of the most sophisticated security systems in North America, but Catwoman barely considered it a challenge. She had easily bypassed the system, and was currently cleaning out the safe, which held some of the valuable diamonds in the world. Selina thought that it was funny that they would even keep rocks like these in Gotham, it was almost like they wanted them to be stolen. The burlap sack she had was almost filled to the top with shiny jewels when she noticed another presence in the store.

"You know Handsome," Selina said, her sultry voice making the words seem to melt out of her cherry red lips, "After what we've done together, all you have to do is call."

"I'm not here for you," Batman's gruff voice replied, "I'm here for information."

Catwoman sauntered up to the Caped Crusader, swinging her hips and looking at him with half-lidded eyes and a sly smile. Batman stood up a bit straighter.

"That's a shame," Catwoman purred, "I _really_ wanted to see you."

She came painstakingly close to the vigilante, and seductively brushed her hand along Batman's armored torso, placing her palm on the symbol on his chest. Batman visibly tensed. His years of mental training and chastising flew right the window. He summoned all of his strength and spoke in the most even tone possible.

"What do you know about what Black Mask is planning?"

Selina didn't respond, instead she traced the outline of the bat symbol with her finger, and slowly slid her other hand down to Batman's inner thigh. She pressed her body onto Batman's, giving Bruce full view of her cleavage. Batman couldn't take much more. He grabbed both of Selina's wandering hands and forced them to her sides.

"Black Mask," he said in his deep voice that Selina secretly loved, "What is he planning?"

Selina's coy smile never faltered. "Word is he's working with someone."

"Who, Selina?"

"I don't know, no one knows. Apparently he appeared out of thin air." Selina knew that Bruce admired her ass, and she made full use of that fact as she sauntered back to her bag full of diamonds.

"What else, Selina?"

"There's a rumor going around that Penguin's over at the steel mill. Roman has been beating information out of him for the past day." She took her diamonds and made her way to the open window.

"I can't let you leave with that Selina," Batman said.

"Well Mr. Detective," Selina said, running her free hand up and down her skintight suit, "If you want them so bad, your going to have to catch me." With that, Selina fell backwards out of the window, using her bullwhip to pull herself to a neighboring building. Bruce released a breath he didn't realize he was holding.

?

The boiler room was unbearably hot, but Oswald Cobblepot considered that to be the least of his problems. The suit he wore was ruined, the blood and dirt would be impossible to get out, not the mention all the tears. His left eye was bruised so much he couldn't see out of it, and his right eye wasn't fairing much better. He was sure his ribs and nose were broken. It was nothing he could not handle, however. The Bat would routinely beat him up worse than this. Currently, four of the morons that work for Sionis had taken to sticking Penguin with a cattle prod.

"Do you have any idea who you're fucking with," Cobblepot angrily squawked, blood spitting from his mouth. "When I get outta here, you and Black Mask are dead!"

"I know exactly who I'm fucking with," the leader of the goons replied, "I'm fucking with a greasy, midget nobody. A no-dick asshole that was stupid enough to go against the boss." The goon shocked him a few times for good measure.

Suddenly the elevator doors opened, and the henchmen immediately stopped what they were doing, and regarded the newcomer. Roman Sionis stepped out of the elevator, straightening his pristine black pinstripe suit.

"Well, well," Sionis said, his menacing voice slightly muffled because of his mask, "It seems we have a guest."

"How dare you do this to me," Penguin exclaimed. He thrashed around on the floor, but the handcuffs on his wrist didn't give, and his broken leg sent a sharp pain through out his body. "I'm gonna rip that mask off and shove it down your throat! Mark my words Sionis, this war is gonna turn to a goddamn bloodbath!"

Roman casually strode over to his prisoner, and stomped Cobblepot's face into the concrete floor; blood coated the area around Penguin's head. Oswald tried to speak again, but instead of words, teeth fell out of his mouth. Roman took a deep breath to control his anger before speaking again.

"You ain't the one in control here, you disgusting midget, I am. I'm gonna run Gotham, and there ain't shit you can do about it! So make it easy on yourself and give me the names of your suppliers." Roman continued to boast. If there was one thing he loved more than money, it was the sound of his own voice.

The elevator does opened again. Roman smiled behind his mask. He continued his rant. "Let me introduce you to my ace in the hole, Cobblepot."

The man in question stepped out of the elevator. If the strange man's lime green suit did not unsettle you, the eerie smile would have. His teeth shined even in the darkness around him. His shaggy, dark brown hair hung in curls right below his eyebrows. Small, square reading glasses were perched on the bridge of is nose. A black tie loosely hung a few inches below his neck. He confidently strode over to were the Penguin laid broken on the floor, twirling a cane that had a question mark-like curve on its end. When he reached the Penguin, Black Mask motioned for his henchmen to lift Cobblepot off the ground. When they did, the strange man leaned down close to the Penguin.

"Who the hell are you," Penguin demanded with false confidence. The man stood up straight before responding.

"I am The Riddler, and I've got a little riddle for you, Oswald." He sounded like a game show host; as if he was expecting every word he spoke to be followed by applause. He theatrically cleared his throat before speaking again. "If a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, then how many is a bird in the boiler worth? Let's find out, shall we?"

?

Batman had been listening in on the entire exchange while perched on rafter near the boiler room ceiling. He decided that it was time to intervene. He leapt from his hiding spot, and his cape deployed into a type of parachute and he easily glided unnoticed behind a thug that had chosen to hang back close to the opposite side wall, away from the Penguin. Batman easily lifted the man by the back of his neck, and before he could scream, Batman swept the thugs legs and forced the goon to the unforgiving ground, with the thug's nose shattering into several pieces. One of the other henchmen heard the commotion. He shouted that the Bat is here, and the three remaining goons converged on the masked intruder.

"So he is real," Riddler exclaimed, "How fascinating."

Black Mask however, was not thrilled. He was a coward at heart, and he covered it with intimidation and false bravado. "Let's get out of here," he told Riddler, and then he focused his attention on his men.

"Kill him boys," Roman said, knowing full well that his goons were going to the emergency room, then to jail.

The first man that dared charged at Batman held a knife, he intended to stab the hero. Batman dodged the man's careless swipes, and brought a strong knee to the thug's gut. He doubled over in pain, and emptied the contents of his stomach onto the floor. The two remaining mobsters charged Batman at the same time. He sidestepped their attack, and punched the mobster closest to him in the throat. The other goon came up behind vigilante, and swung a pipe towards the Batman's head. To the thug's horror, the Batman's gloved hand stopped the pipe mid-swing. Batman kicked the inside of the thug's knee, snapping it into two separate pieces. He fell, and Batman was on him in an instant. He punched in the mobster's head into the floor, knocking him out cold.

Batman turned to the remaining thugs. The one he had throat punched had passed out. The Dark Knight turned to the thug who had vomited. He was desperately trying to crawl away. Batman scanned the room; Black Mask and Riddler had escaped, as well as the Penguin. Batman stomped over to the last henchman, grabbed him by the neck and lifted him clean off the ground.

"Oh God, please don't hurt me," the goon desperately pleaded, "I'll tell you anything you want to know."

"Tell me who the Riddler is and what Black Mask is planning", Batman demanded.

The mobster could barely choke out his response. "A few weeks ago, this Riddler freak comes to the boss, tells him his plan to move on Cobblepot. Says he ain't want no money. Says the Penguin going down is reward enough."

"What is the plan?"

"Take out Penguin suppliers, or make them work for us. Take out his gang from the inside out. That's it! That's all I know, I swear!"

Batman silenced the man with swift punch to the jaw, knocking him out. He dropped the mobster to the ground and raised Alfred on the communicator. The butler's voice came through clear over the communicator.

"What can I help you with, Master Bruce?"

"I have identified the man working with Black Mask. He calls himself The Riddler. I'll bring you up to speed when I get back to Cave. Oh, and give Gordon my current location. I've got some of Black Mask's mobsters here ready for pick up."

"Right away, sir. I have finished deciphering the tape. You were right about the numbers corresponding with letters."

"Thank you, Alfred. I'll look at it when I get back"

?

The Batmobile pulled into the Batcave a few minutes later. Batman got out and walked to the Cave's ultra-advanced computer, where his faithful butler was waiting.

"Hello sir," Alfred said, "Transcript of the tape is right here for you." Alfred handed Bruce the transcript. He looked down and read the paper. It read as follows:

 _Dear people of Gotham City,_

 _As some of you may know, this city is on its last legs. Gotham has turned into a cesspool for the vacuous and pugnacious filth that rule this city through violence and intimidation. I, The Riddler, vow to save this city from the stupidity that is destroying it. You may be wondering how I intend to do this. Do not worry, my simpleminded friends, you will know soon enough. The stupid will die off, and I will bring Gotham into a new Age of Enlightenment. And to the man that dresses like a bat and has the gall to himself The Defender of Gotham, we will soon see if you can live up to this self given title._

 _Best Wishes,_

 _Edward Nigma_

?

 **AN: Here we go! I suck at writing combat scenes. I do love writing Catwoman, though. Please review, I love to hear from you guys.**


	3. Chapter 2: Questions and Answers

**AN: This story is an AU, and is rated M. From this chapter on, there may be some themes and events that some readers may find disturbing. You have been warned.**

 **The word** **murciélago is Spanish for bat.**

 **And to that Guest reviewer, I will delve into a BatmanxCatwoman relationship a little further along in the story.**

 **Please review, I love hearing what you guys have to say.**

Chapter 2: Questions and Answers

The elevator down to Wayne Enterprises' storage sub-level had always been a bit of a treat for Bruce. He loved seeing what Lucius had for him, and the suspense he would find himself in on that elevator was one of Bruce's private guilty pleasures. As he approached the sub-level, Bruce couldn't help but smirk. At the end of yet another boring board meeting that Bruce was using to catch up on sleep, Lucius said he had a few things that Bruce would like. He could barely contain his excitement.

The elevator doors finally opened, and Bruce stepped out, coming face to face with Lucius.

"Ah, Mister Wayne. I see you've managed to keep yourself awake for longer than two minutes," Lucius said. As much as Bruce loved seeing new gadgets, Lucius enjoyed the fact that whatever he showed the young billionaire would contribute to something much bigger than himself.

"Hey," Bruce replied, "It's not my fault you make me sit through ten hours of the most boring PowerPoint in existence. And you turn the lights off, what do you expect?"

The two shared a laugh, and Lucius motioned for Bruce to follow him. He led the Wayne heir to a table with a large black trunk on top of it. He input the combination, and the trunk sprang open, revealing layers of what Bruce thought looked a lot like his standard Bat-a-rangs, but these were smaller, and the was a circular red light blub in the middle.

"Not that long ago," Lucius began, as Bruce took one out and examined more closely, "The Research and Development team here came up with smaller, lighter, and more reliable incendiary grenades. They are able to stick to almost any surface thanks to their built in prototype super-magnet. The project got shut down after we started to focus more on firearms, but not before all these were made."

"How big is the flame," Bruce asked.

"See that little dial there," the old man pointed, "You can adjust how big of a fire you want it to be."

Bruce looked at Lucius skeptically. "I can't imagine Batman would go around starting fires."

Lucius sighed. "Maybe, maybe not. But you know what I always say; it's better to be prepared. Well, that's all I have for you today. Now go save the world or whatever it is you do."

"Thanks, Lucius."

?

Bruce sat in the Batcave, glaring at the monitors in front of him. He was wearing the Batsuit, with the cape and cowl draped on back of his chair.

Alfred walked down one of the Batcave's staircases, and suppressed an annoyed groan when he saw Bruce slam his fist down on the keyboard.

"Master Bruce, I've prepared your supper some time ago. It's cold now that it has been sitting in the dinning room for," Alfred glanced at his watch, "three hours. But I can always warm it up for you."

Bruce remained silent, and the only sound in the Cave was more methodical keyboard tapping. Alfred rolled his eyes.

"And just what, Master Bruce, do you find so important that you find it plausible to shut out the rest of the world?"

Bruce didn't take his eyes of the monitor. "Penguin has resurfaced. He's flooding the Bowery with narcotics and illegal firearms. Normally, I'd go after Cobblepot directly, but he's in the wind. I convinced one of Penguin's distributors, a lowlife scumbag named Rupert Thorne, to tell me Penguin's location and the names the other distributors. But he's gone dark."

"Perhaps Cobblepot learned of Thorne's discretions," Alfred reasoned.

"More than likely," Batman agreed, "But I'm going out to see for myself."

"Very well, sir. Oh, before you go, Master Lucius delivered your new gadgets. I took the liberty of placing some in your belt. You may consider using them."

"Thank you Alfred."

Batman put on his mask and stomped over to the Batwing. He clicked the screen of the computer built into his gauntlet, and the thrusters of the custom-built jet roared to life. The cockpit door swung open, and Batman hopped into the single chair. The jet lifted into the air, and soared into the night sky.

?

Rupert Thorne and a potential costumer sat at a round, wooden table. Two of Penguin's thugs stood behind Thorne, their arms crossed over the pistols tucked in their waistbands. Several kilos of cocaine lay before Thorne and the buyer.

The buyer took his bowie knife out of its sheath, and cut into one of the bags, getting a small amount of the drug on to the end of the blade. He bent over the knife and inhaled.

"Well," Rupert's slimy voice piped up, "I see you like the product. It's Columbian. Uncut. Best shit you'll get in this fuckhole of a city."

The addict didn't look convinced. "You sure? I hear Black Mask is starting to push into Penguin's territory. Me and you both know his shit is purer than this."

Rupert laughed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, one the gangsters behind him pulled out a lighter and handed it to him. He lit up, breathed in deeply and exhaled, filling the air around him with smoke. He leaned over the table. "Black Mask and his whole crew are a bunch a fags," Rupert took another drag from his cigarette. "Suit-wearing wannabe gangbangers. Penguin owns this city."

The buyer put his knife back it its sheath. "Fine," he said, "How much?"

Rupert put his cigarette out in his ashtray. "six kilos of coke," Rupert rubbed his chin to make it look like he was thinking. "A hundred grand."

The cokehead shot up from his chair, and held out his knife. Penguin's thugs took out there guns and aimed at the addict's face. Suddenly and without warning, the door to Rupert's loft swung open, and Thorne cringed at the intruder's choice of fashion.

"Gentlemen please," The strange man implored while he swaggered into the apartment, "Let's all just calm down, and _mark_ this day with a special guest."

The man took a moment to adjust his lime green suit.

Rupert was astonished at the audacity of this man. "Who the fuck are you," he bellowed.

"I am the Riddler," he said, and then his entire demeanor shifted. The game show like persona melted, and he seemed, to everyone in the room, deranged. The theatrical smile suddenly looked psychotic. His eyes had appeared to be joyful, and suddenly the glazed over, clouded with murderous intent. He cleared his throat before speaking again. "I am the Riddler," he repeated, "and you didn't let me finish."

As quickly as the personality shift came it left. He suddenly seemed whimsical, with a smile that unsettled everyone else in the room, like he knew something you didn't.

"Anyway, before I was so rudely interrupted, let's _mark_ this day with a special guest."

Riddler turned and motioned for someone to come through the door. Riddler stepped out from the doorway to allow the person to enter the room.

"Gentleman," Riddler began, "Allow me to introduce you to Mister Victor Zsasz."

A man, wearing only a ragged pair of sweatpants, stepped into the room. But the mans lack of clothes was not what frightened Rupert.

The man's entire upper body was covered in scars, from his long, slender fingers, to the top of his baldhead. The scars eerily resembled tally marks.

Riddler walked up to the table, and Zsasz followed suit. Rupert had seen enough. He looked back to his thugs.

"Kill them," he commanded, though his voice was riddled with fear. When he heard no gunfire, he turned again to his thugs.

"You ain't hear what I just said? Kill them!"

The low-level gangsters looked at each other, and then dropped their guns, fell to their knees, and put their hands their heads. The coke addict tossed his knife to the ground, and did the same. Zsasz picked up the cokehead's discarded knife, and started to breath heavily.

"I need the mark," he said, "Give me the mark."

Zsasz looked right at Rupert, who had felt a warm liquid tickle down his pants. Zsasz twisted his neck and the resulting popping sound made Rupert flinch.

"I have a special spot just for you," Zsasz whispered, "Do want to see where?"

One of Penguin's thugs stood up and bolted to open door. Zsasz was on him in an instant, tackling the criminal to the ground. The gangster began to cry, tears cascaded down his face like rain, as he begged and pleaded for his life. Zsasz held the knife the man's throat, and whispered something into his ear that caused the thug to suddenly become quiet. Zsasz held the knife in the air plunged it deeply into the man's chest. Zsasz closed his eyes and moaned deeply, and his hips thrust into the thigh of latest kill.

Zsasz stood up, still riding the waves of ecstasy that only taking a life brought him. He opened his eyes, and desperately searched his body for a free space and found one.

Zsasz cut deeply into right cheek, the edge of the knife found its way into his mouth. He slowly dragged his hand downward, savoring the feeling of the orgasmic pain. He stopped and pulled the knife from his wound.

"Seventy-four," he muttered to himself. He sighed, finally turned back to Rupert.

Riddler decided it was his turn to speak up. "Well, that was, uh, spirited. I, for one, was on the edge of my seat for the whole show." Riddler looked towards Rupert. "Now, Mr. Thorne. Let's get to why I'm here. I know you sell recreational substances to Gotham's filth. I cannot allow this to stand."

"Yo-you ca-can take whatever you want," Thorne stuttered.

Riddler looked annoyed. "I'm not here for money," he clarified, "I'm here to introduce you to Mr. Zsasz. He has got a plan to get you, and the Penguin, ahead in this _cutthroat_ business."

?

Batman flew over to Park Row, to where Rupert Thorne's penthouse apartment was. He reached his destination and opened the cockpit of the Batwing, and jumped out. He deployed his cape, which slowed his fall, he but he lost little momentum. He crashed through the loft's skylight, and easily landed on his feet.

The smell hit the vigilante harder than any fist could. Thorne and three other men, two of them had Penguin gang tattoos, were seated around a table positioned as if they were playing poker. From the smell, and the rate of decomposition, Batman guessed they've been dead for a few days. The detective scanned the entire apartment as well as the bodies for fingerprints. He found none, but Batman knew this was Victor Zsasz's MO. But why would Zsasz target a drug dealer and low-level thugs? They were not Zsasz's typical victims. Batman noticed something written on one of the cards Rupert had in his hand. The hero picked up the card and read the hastily scribbled message.

 _If this place is your alibi, you're probably guilty._

The loan shark murders had riddles with them, but Zsasz didn't kill those people. They were not posed, which is Zsasz's signature.

Batman expected Thorne's apartment to have answers, but now he has more questions. Batman placed the card in his belt, and then raised Alfred on his communicator.

"What can I help with Master Bruce," asked the faithful butler.

"I'm at Thorne's apartment. He's dead."

"Just as you suspected, sir."

"Yes, but something's wrong. Thorne appears to have been killed by Victor Zsasz."

The butler's breath hitched. "I thought you had put him into Arkham Asylum months ago."

"I did," Batman confirmed, "He must have broken out. Or someone broke him out. The body has a riddle. That is not Zsasz's MO. I'm willing to bet Black Mask's newest lieutenant, the Riddler, has something to do with this, and the loan shark murders as well. I'm on my way to the riddle's answer. It's a seedy club called My Alibi."

?

Black Mask punched his desk, leaving a hole in the mahogany wood.

"That fucking cocksucker," Black Mask screamed, "When I find Nigma, I'm going cut his skin off and shove it down his throat."

Black Mask's lieutenants, all except for the Riddler, stood silent in Roman's safe house in Bludhaven. Sionis was on a rampage. The Riddler had stolen all of the money in his safe. The fifty billion dollars locked in the safe was gone.

"That backstabbing horse-fucker stole my money," Black Mask yelled.

It was common knowledge among all of Black Mask's gang not to talk or even look at the boss when he was in one of his moods. The only thing that the gang's lieutenants could do was stare at ground, and hope Black Mask doesn't take his anger out on them.

Ralphie "Snake" Snakier was a high-ranking gangbanger making serious moves in Black Mask's organization. He was known throughout Gotham's underworld to be the best numbers guy this side of Metropolis. That is why Black Mask made him his personal accountant, and that's also the reason that Ralphie found himself in Black Mask's office while he shouted obscenities to no one in particular.

Black Mask was the most intimidating man Ralphie had ever met. Not because of his physical strength, but because of what he did to get what he wanted. There was a rumor going around that he killed his own parents so he could get their money to could start this gang. What the hell kind of person does that?

Ralphie was in over his head. As the boss shouted another string of colorful curses, he stood up from his seat.

"That shit-eating cumstain is gonna fucking die. I'm gonna," Black Mask abruptly stopped his rant when his account stood of from his seat.

"What," Black Mask screamed, "are you fucking doing? You got to something say?" Black Mask walked up to the accountant and stood with their faces an inch apart. "Say it."

The boss stood at the same height as his accountant, but Ralphie might as well have been a mouse staring at a lion. Black Mask turned away from the kid, but swung his body back around, using his full momentum to sucker punch his face. Snake fell to the ground, coughing up teeth and blood. Black Mask didn't let up. He lost count of how many times he punched the kid. When he was done, Ralphie "Snake" Snakier was a puddle of brain and skull fragments.

Black Mask turned to his lieutenants, who just kept their eyes downward.

"Listen you fucking cunts," he began, "I want every single man in my outfit to be on the street. Find that skinny cocksucker Nigma, and bring him to me alive. On a different note, word is that smelly midget Cobblepot is back in business. If the boys happen to run into any of his, show no mercy. If that little fucker wants a war, he's gonna get it."

?

Batman perched himself on the edge of a rooftop and peered down, scanning the area outside of My Alibi. Two Hispanic mercenaries, both well armed and appearing to be well trained, stood outside of the doors. Batman scanned for other entrances, but found none. One of the mercenaries turned to the other.

"¿Qué demonios estamos haciendo en esta ciudad?"

The other paid soldier looked around the immediate area before responding. "Bane le pagaron mucho dinero para venir a la ciudad de mierda. Tenemos que mirar para un murciélago humano."

The two soldiers went back to guarding the entrance. Batman called his trusted butler on his communicator.

"Alfred," the vigilante said, "I'm at My Alibi. It appears to have been taken over by Hispanic mercenaries that work someone called Bane. Run a search for the name."

"Already done sir," Alfred replied, "This man, Bane, has seemed to appear out of thin air. There is nothing on him until a few years ago. I can't seem to find an alias. According to DEA files, he runs a drug ring off of an island called Santa Prisca. He manufactures a steroid called Venom there."

The doors to My Alibi flew off the hinges, and the men guarding the front barely got out of the way in time. A massive, hulking beast of a man stepped out of the doorway. He wore long black cargo pants, a leather jacket, and a black lucha libre mask. He looked at the two men, who were scared out of their minds.

"El murciélago está cerca," The huge man said, "Mantén tus ojos abiertos."

"Sí Bane," came the soldiers' meager reply.

The man, who was apparently Bane, stepped back into the nightclub. Batman had seen enough. He swooped down, landing on top of one of the mercenaries. Batman quickly punched the merc the times on his spine, shattering it. Batman was sure he would never walk again. The vigilante turned back to the other mercenary, who was yelling into his walkie-talkie.

"El murciélago está aquí! Alguien llegar Bane!"

Batman silenced him with a Bat-a-rang aimed at the man's face. He fell unconscious. Suddenly, dozens of Bane's men funneled out the club, their assault rifles aimed and Batman. The ground shook as their leader stomped behind them. The mercs cleared a path for Bane, who walked right up to the hero.

"So," came Bane's heavy Latino accent, "You must be the murciélago I hear so much about. Some believe you to be not real."

"Sorry to disappoint you," Batman confidently replied.

"No murciélago, you misunderstand. I am not disappointed." Bane shrugged off his jacket and threw it over his shoulder, revealing his tank top clad torso. Bane's muscles were massive. He stood seven feet tall. His biceps were the size of basketballs, and his pectorals were at least a foot across.

"Does my body scare you, murciélago? I have not even ingested Venom yet."

Bane chuckled as he reached to his pocket and pulled out a small storage tank, and strapped it to the wrist of his right hand. He also took out a tube, and plugged it into the tank, and then into the back of his mask.

"I have heard much about you, murciélago. You deserve to fight me at my best."

Batman got into a defense stance as Bane pushed a button on his wrist-mounted tank. Venom flowed through the tube, and pumped into his skull. His muscled pulsated, and tripled in size. Bane stood straight as his spine lurched upward, giving him another four feet in height. His whole body swelled, until his fist were the size of stop signs. The gruesome sound of muscles tearing and rebuilding themselves, along with bones being crudely enlarged, dominated the air. The noise abruptly stopped, and was replace with Bane's men cheering his name. Batman remained unfazed. Bane glared at Batman. The Venom user was unsettled by Batman's unchanging demeanor. Each breath Bane took was rough and haggard.

Bane screamed and charged Batman. "Bienvenida a la muerte, murciélago!"

Bane swung his fists wildly in Batman's general direction. The hero dodged Bane's random attacks with ease. But suddenly, Bane landed a crushing blow to Batman's abdomen and sent the hero flying back into a nearby wall. Batman then realized why Bane began with a flurry of seemingly random attacks. He was testing the hero's speed.

Batman slammed into the ally wall, and landed ungracefully on the ground. Bane ran up to the hero, and Batman was barely able to tuck and roll away from a strong kick aimed at the vigilante's face. Bane screamed at the top his lungs, and punched the wall in front of him, leaving a massive hole the size of Batman's torso. The caped crusader stood up clutching his ribs, knowing more than a few of them were broken. Bane didn't let up, rushing towards Batman, who was narrowly able to repeatedly jump just out of reach of Bane's colossal hands.

"I will break you murciélago," Bane shrieked, "I will beat you into dust, then take you head as a trofeo!"

Batman back flipped away from another of Bane's strikes, but this time the vigilante was not fast enough. Bane grabbed a fistful of Batman's cape, and pulled the hero towards his knuckle. Bane threw an uppercut, sending Gotham's savoir into the air. Before could be launched into space, Bane grabbed Batman's legs and tossed him like a ragdoll back to earth. Batman fell back down to the unforgiving pavement, and Bane continued his assault. He beat the vigilante into the ground, each punch harder than the last. Bane's men laughed, sending a multitude of sneers and insults towards Batman, while praising their leader. Bane eventually grew bored, and wrapped his fingers around Batman's broken body, and threw him into the busy street. The dark knight collided with a moving car, the occupants screaming in terror as the vehicle veered off the road and into a streetlight. Against all odds, Batman stood up again. Every breath the superhero took sent spikes of pain through out his body. All of Batman's ribs were either broken or cracked. His armor was destroyed. The upper right portion of the crusader's armor was gone, leaving his neck and the right half his chest down to his elbow exposed. The exposed flesh was an angry shade of blue and purple, with several long gashes bleeding profusely.

Bane came barreling out of the alleyway, knocking cars out his way with the force of a freight train. Batman acted fast, tossing a smoke pellet into the Venom users eyes. The smoke blinded Bane, Batman hurried over to his feet and took out his explosive gel applicator and sprayed the gel generously on the asphalt around Bane's feet. Batman got clear and triggered the explosion. It didn't do as much damaged as he had hoped; Bane was merely knock off his feet and fell on to his back.

Batman saw his opportunity and threw several Bat-a-rangs at Bane's precious Venom tube, hoping to sever it. Bane recovered faster than Batman anticipated. He stood up and knocked the Bat-a-rangs out of the air.

Bane chuckled and decided to taunt his opponent. "You must do better than that. Your pathetic juguetes have no effect on me."

Only Batman's years of training didn't allow him to acknowledge his pain, and didn't allow him to give up. He would die before he allowed anyone to terrorize Gotham, but the superhero was running out of options. Bane seemed unstoppable. The GCPD had finally arrived on the scene, and engaged Bane's mercenaries into a bloody shootout. Batman didn't have enough time to defuse the gun battle, as Bane picked up a car and sent it flying in Batman's direction. The car's driver had long since fled, something the vigilante was thankful for as he dodged the incoming automobile that crashed into the building the behind him. Batman would never give up, but he was now realizing he may be outmatched. He collapsed on to the ground, the dodge taking too much out of him. Bane decided that his prey was finished, and turned his attention to the GCPD officers shooting at his men. James Gordon, who was one of the first officers on the scene, had watched Bane pummel Batman to a pulp. The young detective ran over to the fallen hero. Gordon gave Batman his hand, and helped the caped crusader to his feet.

"So," the officer said, "Gotham's lone ranger _is_ just a man."

Batman was not amused. "Gordon, get the police clear of the scene. Let me handle Bane."

"From what I just saw, you apparently can't."

Without a word, Batman sprang back into action, running and leaping over abandoned cars to reach Bane. He stopped when a cat-like shadow pounced out of nowhere onto Bane's shoulders and sliced the Venom user's eye. Catwoman leapt down and took her place next to Batman. The dark knight couldn't help but stare at Catwoman's leather-clad backside as Bane swung his right fist towards her nimble body. She leapt out of the way, and the caped crusader shook his head and pulled out his Batclaw. This woman was going to be the death of him. He shot the grappling hook and the titanium claws sunk to the back of Bane's hand. He angrily thrashed his hand about, but the claws stayed true. Batman pushed a button on the side of the Batclaw and the grapple gun retracted, propelling the hero toward his new nemesis. Batman deployed his cape, slowing him down enough to land a solid kick to the back of the Venom user's head.

Batman prepped two incendiary Bat-a-rangs while Bane tried to fix his Venom tube. Batman hurled the Bat-a-rangs with superhuman accuracy and they embedded themselves into the metal of Bane wrist-mounted Venom tank. Bane didn't notice until his entire wrist was engulfed in flames. Bane cursed in Spanish as his venom popped and sizzled in the fire. He fell to his knees as he felt his body shrink. He hunched over and threw up; the abrupt loss of Venom weakened him and but Bane into a state of immediate withdrawal. Bane's men took note of their vanquished leader, and the remaining mercenaries surrendered to the GCPD.

Batman turned to Catwoman. "I didn't need your help," he said.

Selina rolled her eyes and smirked. Typical Bruce, she thought to herself.

"It didn't look like that from I was standing," she said as she sauntered over to Batman, "It looks like I just saved your sexy ass, Handsome."

Catwoman ran her hand down Bruce's face, and ghosted over Bruce's visible injuries. She lightly pressed down on a particularly scary-looking bruise, and Batman winced. He turned away from Selina and walked over to Bane's fallen body. He took a small fire extinguisher from his belt and doused the fire on Bane's wrist before it spread up his arm. Selina briefly wondered if there was anything he _wasn't_ prepared for. Batman grabbed Bane's shrunken throat, and Bane was forced to look at the only man who has ever defeated him.

Batman's eyes narrowed behind his mask. "Who hired you," he growled.

"Just kill me murciélago," Bane replied, "You have defeated me in front of my men. This is a fate worse than death."

Batman's grip around the throat of the Venom user tightened. "I will not ask again."

"I never saw his face or heard his voice. I always dealt with his chico de los recados, who calls himself the Riddler."

"Tell me now," Batman demanded.

Bane stayed silent, as if saying the person's name was forbidden. He looked into Batman's eyes and gulped.

"His name is the Joker."


End file.
